


Domestic Bliss

by heeeymackelena



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post Season 5, and then it kinda gets serious, but then back to fluff!, just a lot of fluff, phil coulson is not dying and everything is great all the time always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 17:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeeymackelena/pseuds/heeeymackelena
Summary: Phil Coulson is not dying, and instead spending the rest of his life living in a cute little beach house with the love of his life Melinda May





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentmmayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentmmayy/gifts).



> For my aosficnet exchange partner agentmmayy! I love you so so much! :) thank you for being an amazing friend

Turns out retirement is a little bit… boring. It’s nice not to have the fate of the world resting on your shoulders, but going from the exciting life of a spy to a beach bum is quite the shock. Phil isn’t complaining though. Sleeping in… eating meals oceanside… parasailing. He wouldn’t give up these lazy days with Melinda for anything in the world.

“B9.”

“Damn.”

However, right now, Phil Coulson would give _anything_ to go back in time and stop himself from ever suggesting they play a game.

“You have to say it.”

There’s a moment of silence as Phil savors his pride one last time before handing it over.

“You sunk my battleship.”

“I win. Again.”

He wouldn’t quite call it a smile, but Melinda was certainly looking pleased with herself.

Phil just lets out a huff. He quickly packs up the board game and puts it with the others he’s lost in the last few hours. He’d discovered the game closet while exploring their new beach resort home and convinced Melinda to play a round of Bananagrams, which turned into six rounds as he tried desperately to win at least once. Giving up on the word game, he’d challenged her to ones he thought he’d have the upper hand in. Yet his losing streak continued.

“It’s a good thing we retired. Your strategic mind is failing you,” Melinda teases him. “The corners, Phil? Really?”

“I lost on purpose,” Phil replies, grabbing the deck of cards from pile of games. “I wanted to see if you would at least let me win out of love.”

“I do love you, but I’m never going to let you win.”

Phil pouts and Melinda resists the urge to knock the cards out of his hands and make it go away by pressing her lips to his. She’s still getting used to saying those words out loud. For so long it was a secret she wouldn’t dare admit to anyone, even herself. Retiring from S.H.I.E.L.D had been a huge relief of stress, but not as huge as finally admitting to her lifelong friend and partner that she loved him.

“What’s next?” Melinda asks.

“We’re going to play Cheat. Because that’s what you are.” Phil makes a grand show of shuffling the cards with a flourish.

Melinda rolls her eyes. “I didn’t cheat, you’re just bad at board games.”

“Well I’ve got you this time.” He replies, dealing out the cards.

Melinda studies her cards. She’s definitely winning. “How about we make this interesting?”

“How so?”

“Last game. Winner takes all.”

Phil’s about to ask what ‘all’ means, but then he sees the intense look in his lover’s eyes. He tears his gaze from hers and clears his throat as he pretends to examine his own cards. “Deal.”

“You start.”

“One ace.” He calls, setting down the first card.

“One two.” Melinda fires back. Her eyes never leave Phil’s as she places her card on the pile.

“Two threes.”

“One four.”

“Cheat.”

Melinda picks up the stack of cards and adds it to her hand without a word. Phil smiles smugly. She may have the best poker face in the world, but he can still read her like an open book.The game goes on like that for half an hour, with Phil pointing out Melinda’s bluffs like she was strapped to a damn polygraph.

“Did you hustle me?” She accuses, picking up the final stack and losing the game.

“I just know you.” Phil beams at her, and her heart melts a little.

He takes the cards from her hand and tosses them aside, not caring that they scatter all across the floor. He leans forward on his knees until he’s close enough to claim her lips with his. Melinda’s soreness from losing their final match melts away. Just as she’s getting lost in the feeling of his lips moving against hers, he pulls away. Now she’s the one pouting.

“I believe there was mention of a prize.”

“No. We never established what it was.”

“It was implied.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He presses his lips to hers again, briefly. Soon they’re moving downwards across her chin, her neck, her clavicle.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Melinda.”

“I haven’t lost anything.”

* * *

 

Phil knew Melinda had a domestic side. He’d seen it plenty of times in the decades he’s known her. But it hadn’t really made an appearance during their last few years at S.H.I.E.L.D., so he was a bit surprised when he entered the garage and saw Melinda doing laundry. Or rather, saw Melinda’s legs flailing as she tried to climb _into_ the washing machine. He rushes over and places both hands on her hips, steadying her.

“Need help?”

With both feet firmly back on the ground and her head out of the machine, Melinda lets out a frustrated huff. “Damn thing is too deep.”

“Here,” Phil risks letting out a small chuckle at his partner’s expense. “Let me.”

Melinda glares at the back of his head, both for laughing and out of jealousy that his height allows him to reach in without issue. She grabs the basket and holds it while Phil tosses clothes in.

“We’re getting a front-loading machine.”

“I don’t mind helping,” Phil smiles at her over the growing pile of clothes in her arms. “We could be domestic together.”

Melinda’s agitation fades as she takes in his suggestion. She imagines the two of them doing laundry, fixing dinner together, messing around while cleaning on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It paints a nice picture in Melinda’s head, but it’s ruined when Phil pulls his hand back out of the washing machine.

“Oh. These are nice.” He says, admiring the lacy black underwear hooked around his pinky.

Melinda snatches the panties out of his hand. She tosses them in with her other clothes and covers them up with a shirt. If they’re out of sight he’ll forget all about them, right?

“I’ve seen your underwear, and less than your underwear, plenty of times since we’ve been here.” He points out.

“Not these.” Melinda mutters. Not yet, anyway. Despite the frequency of their sex life, they’d kept things pretty simple so far.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No. Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because you forgot about the matching bra.” Phil reaches into the washing machine and pulls it out by its thin strap. Melinda grabs it by the other and stuffs it into the dryer along with the other laundry.

“We are definitely getting a front-loading machine.” Melinda growls slamming the start button.

* * *

 

You tend to miss a lot of new movies when you’re constantly running around trying to save the world from destruction, so movie nights occurred nearly every other night for Phil and Melinda now that they were retired. The couple was starting to get used to the new level of their relationship and sitting together on the couch became cuddling together on the couch. Currently, Melinda was laying on top of Phil, head resting on his chest and feet playing with his.

“Are you cold?” she asks.

“No. Why, are you?”

“Your feet are freezing.”

“Poor circulation. My hands are always cold too, see?”

Phil sneaks a hand under Melinda’s shirt and runs his cool fingers down her spine. She squirms at the shock and pokes him in the side to get him to stop.

“Ouch!” He complains.

“You started it.”

The two settle back down and focus on the movie, but Melinda can’t help but notice that Phil’s hand stays under her shirt. She slips her own hand up the side of his t-shirt and gently rubs at the spot she had poked, soothing it. Minutes pass by with the two of them like that, simply wanting to be close to each other. Feeling the other’s skin on their own.

Melinda couldn’t care less about the woman on the screen or why she was crying. Her ears where focused on the steady beat of Phil’s heart. Her skin was warm everywhere it touched his. Her nostrils were filled with a mix of the laundry detergent from his fresh pajama shirt and his own unique scent. Melinda May had never been so present in her own body, or so grateful to be alive a sharing the rest of her life with this man.

* * *

Even after a year of retired life, Melinda still can’t shake some of her spy instincts. This time it’s the sound of a confused bug tapping against their bedroom window that startles her awake. She’s on high alert, searching for danger, when her groggy brain catches up to her and she remembers there is no danger on the island. She settles back into Phil’s arms, and allows his soft snores to lull her back into sleep…. or not.

She shifts as much as she can without waking her lover, but even the new position doesn’t help her get back to sleep. She kicks off some of the covers, hoping the cool air might help. After several minutes of boring darkness, she decides to get up. She takes one of the blankets and makes her way to one of the lounge chairs on their balcony.

Watching the sky slowly lighten over the calm ocean puts Melinda into a reflective trance. She wonders how the team is doing. Their last call had been interrupted by the base alarms going off and Daisy rushing off with a hasty, “I’ll call you back!”

Phil and Melinda hadn’t been too worried. Daisy had grown into a fine leader. They were both very proud of her. The way parents would be proud to see their child take over the family business. The glass door behind her slide open, making her jump.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Phil asks, taking a seat in the matching lounge chair next to hers.

She shakes her head.

“You should have woken me up. So you wouldn’t have to sit out here alone.”

“You were exhausted, Phil. That hike wore you out.”

“You make me sound so old. A ten-mile hike would make anyone tired.

She smiles at his defensive tone.

“Phil?” She starts. He hums in acknowledgement. “What’s next?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, puzzled.

“Where do we go from here? Do we stay on this island? Do you have a vision for the future?”

Phil takes in a deep breath at the weight of her questions. “Well I didn’t really plan anything more than this. I thought I was going to die here, until Jemma came up with a cure.”

He stares at her as she gazes out at the ocean, wonder where her mind was. The light of early dawn made her skin glow and Phil swears he’s never been more in love with her than in that moment. It’s something he finds himself thinking every time he looks at her: I love you more than I did yesterday, but not as much as I will tomorrow.

“Whatever the future holds, I’ll be happy as long as it’s a future with you.” He says as he reaches across the space between them to hold her hand. Melinda no longer looks lost in thought, love shining in her clear eyes.

“Let’s go back to bed.”

She stands, never dropping his hand, and leads him back inside.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson is normally a fantastic cook. Okay well maybe not ‘fantastic’ but very good. The smoke from the pan hits his face and he coughs. He fans the air hoping it will dissipate but then the fire alarm is going off and the house is filled with its awful noise.

Okay maybe just ‘good’.

“What’s going on in here?” Melinda asks from the doorway to the kitchen. Her voice is still heavy with sleep.

“Sorry,” Phil shouts over the fire alarm. He gestures at the pan in his hand. “I was trying to surprise you.”

Melinda opens a door and all the windows. The sea breeze makes quick work of the smoke, but the alarm is still blaring. Phil grabs a chair and yanks the battery out, effectively shutting it up.

“Mission accomplished. I was very surprised.” Melinda groans out as she rubs an eye with the palm of her hand.

“Sorry. Again.” Phil shrugs.

“Why the surprise?”

“Uhhh...”

Phil’s eyes dart towards the impressive set up on the kitchen table. Fresh flowers sit at the center. Their best dishes and silverware wait, ready for the charred food he definitely won’t be serving her now. A closed ring box rests next to Melinda’s glass of juice. His eyes fly back to the woman standing in front of him in hopes that she won’t notice the display on the table. Too late. Melinda walks to the table and picks up the box, but she doesn’t open it. Instead she turns or stare at Phil with a blank expression.

“Well since everything is ruined anyways, might as well roll with the new plan.” Phil says, dropping to one knee. Melinda just continues to stare. Phil fights off his growing nerves and pushes forward.

“The other night you asked if I had a vision for the future. I was pretty vague about it because it was 3 a.m. and, honestly, I was only half awake and completely entranced by how beautiful you looked in the morning light. But, the more I thought about it the more I realized that I do know what I want my future to look like.”

Phil gestures for Melinda to open the box in her hand. She doesn’t move, so he gently takes it and opens it for her to see the ring inside.

“The first and most important part of that future is that I want to be your husband throughout it. It doesn’t have to be on this island, although it is nice here, but I want the goofy game nights, and movie nights, and doing boring domestic tasks like laundry or fixing the breakfast that I’ve ruined. And I want to keep falling in love with you every time I look at you. But most of all, I want to call you my wife while we do it all.”

Phil finally stops his rambling and takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. Melinda doesn’t say anything. After another minute of silence Phil can’t take it anymore.

“Melinda?”

Suddenly, she drops to her knees so that they are face to face, and her lips engulf his. He’s started but quickly catches up. They get so far lost in each other that neither can remember what they were doing in the first place until Phil brings his hand up to run his fingers through Melinda’s hair and accidentally smacks her in the head with the ring box.

“I want all of that too, especially the last part.” She shudders out between heavy breaths. “I want to be your wife.”

“Good. Great!” Phil kisses her again, not nearly as long this time but still just as passionately. He takes the ring out of the box and slips it on her finger. “For once I’m excited for the future.”


End file.
